Rolls Alaska to Argentina & back: 4 - Dawson City to Watson Lake, Yukon, Canada

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Miles for the day: 414 (666 km) Miles to date: 1,293 (2,081)

We were a little worse for wear this morning, but still had a reasonably early start. After a good breakfast at the Chinese Village in Dawson, costing half of the previous best deal, we headed south. The road follows the Yukon River, the former principal connecting route to Whitehorse, through rolling hills covered with stunted, thin spruce trees. The road was typical of the other northern roads - pavement with stretches of gravel where frost heaves were being repaired.

Our arrival at the town of Mayo indicated we were off course, an error that added about 72 miles (116 km) to our route. We bought gas and strolled through the small museum which gave a feel for the town when it was a major river port shipping silver to the railhead at Whitehorse. Old photos showed huge areas stacked with sacks of silver awaiting the river barges.

An interesting display was a stuffed grizzly bear, and photos of the house where he wreaked havoc before climbing onto the bed to sleep. Doors were ripped off the fridge and freezer and every piece of furniture in the place was destroyed. He was shot near the front porch as he was coming out after the resident and a friend discovered him.

After backtracking on our route we came to Stewart Crossing, where we needed to make a 90 degree turn to cross a bridge over the Yukon River. The gas station in Mayo mentioned they got quite a bit of business from people missing this turn, as there is no sign and all our maps indicated incorrectly that the straight through road went to Whitehorse. Perhaps the gas station has a collection of "Whitehorse" signs!

We gassed up again at Carmack, where we had lunch in a small log restaurant before continuing to Whitehorse, capital of the Yukon Territory. It was the first time in awhile we saw all the superstores, so we picked up some essentials. The stores, and even fast food restaurants, were dirty inside and in the area surrounding them. In general, it did not improve the impression I had when I arrive there by rail & bus from Skagway in 1996.

We found a hotel, and as I was unloading the car a native Indian came over to talk to me about the car. He invited us to join him in the pub next door, which had a live country band playing, but I declined - we were both ready to give our bodies a night off after Dawson City! We had planned two nights here to see the Follies show, but after discussion decided it really wasn't a place we wanted to spend time. Most stores would close on Sunday, so in the morning we headed south again.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Miles for the day: 288 (463 km) Miles to date: 1,581 (2,544)

The road today was good as we travelled through similar countryside but gradually moving from hills to mountains. We made a gas and food stop in Teslin before the final leg to Watson Lake. Initially we planned to stay at the junction of highway 37, but accommodation there left something to be desired, so we drove the extra 22 miles (35 km) into Watson Lake where the "signpost forest" is located. This collection of over 10,000 highway and miscellaneous signs started in 1942 when a lonesome soldier working on the Alaska Highway nailed up a signpost from his home town. The town provides new posts as others fill - anyone is welcome to nail up their contributions.

On the road in front of the signposts we met an Australian couple driving a two seat home built car. He couldn't get it registered in Australia, so shipped it to South Korea and assembled it there. They have been camping out over the past two years while driving through 47 countries. We traded contacts with them, photographed the cars and headed to an excellent visitor's bureau behind the signposts.

A very well informed lady named "Button" gave us the lowdown on all the hotels in town, plus personal background on the owners. A surprising number of hotels do not have toilets in the rooms, set up more like bunkhouses for visiting construction or mining workers. She phoned around, and although her top choices were full found us adequate accommodation. We were informed there was nowhere to get alcohol in Watson Lake on Sunday, but if we backtracked for 7 km (4 ½ mi) the Laird River Lodge had a pub that was open, and that the food was excellent "provided you caught the chef while she was still sober". We were also provided with a map of route 37 and full details on construction zones along the way - it was a very worthwhile stop!

After checking into the hotel we made our way back across the Laird River to the pub where, cold drinks in hand, we joined a gathering of native Indians on the outside deck, where it was still hot and sunny. The lodge is run by a thin, worn Czech lady and her lovely daughter. The daughter wants a career in medicine, so the lodge is for sale. That the lady runs the place with a firm hand was illustrated when she came outside as an Indian girl was stubbing her cigarette on the deck. After getting severely admonished, the girl said, "Well, bring me an ashtray", to which the lady responded, "I'm busy. You know where they are, so get your fat ass in there and get one!" The girl's final shot was, "At least I have an ass", but she went and got the ashtray!

This took place under the watchful eye of the very rotund Indian chief, who presided over a large table beside us. He supported the owner fully, and obviously had a great deal of respect for her. At his table were a group of Cree Indians visiting from Red Deer Albert, one o*f whom was proudly and obviously gay. He struck up a conversation with Marilynn about "how difficult travel is for us girls". All in all in was a most interesting evening and the food was excellent!*